


Red Temptation

by EliDeetz



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Set during S12, Witchcraft, slowburn, stay tuned
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-21
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-04-06 06:45:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14051271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EliDeetz/pseuds/EliDeetz
Summary: After God and Amara leave without turning back, the Winchesters are left to deal with the aftermath of, yet another, semi-apocalypse.With Lucifer out of the cage, they're going to need all the help they can get. Including the one from Crowley's long-lost sister: Beatrice, a white witch with abilities unknown to many.





	1. Chapter 1

Confusing cases came with the job, and the Winchester brothers were well aware of that.  

In fact, any hunter, regardless of age and experience, knew this was par for the course. Knowing this however, still didn’t made it any less frustrating when they couldn’t solve a case. Let alone being stuck in a hotel room in an unknown town… for three weeks now.  

That was Sam and Dean’s situation at the moment. Each time they felt close to finding out what was really going on, something else would pop up.  

A strange series of suicides had brought them to a faraway town. The brothers expected an evil spirit, but with each new death, new questions arose, confusing them to no end, until, digging deeper, they discovered all the victims had either been arrested for, or accused of, sexual assault.  

Those discoveries lead them to suppose that maybe, just maybe, the one behind it was Gabriel. It would be lying to deny that it didn’t ignite a flame of hope in them, giving that they could really use his help, especially with Lucifer roaming free yet again.  

It was late at night; Dean lay on his bed, trying to get some rest while Sam kept on typing furiously, trying to find a new pattern. It was getting the best of both of them, and it would’ve continued to do so, if it wasn’t for the visit that they received that very same night.

“A  _sister_?” Dean asked, again. “You have a  _sister_?” His eyebrows were almost glued to the top of his head, as he paced back and forth agitatedly.

“Yes, and she’s been having you boys chasing after your own tails the whole time,” the King of Hell explained, paying more attention to the imaginary flecks of lint on his suit than to the seemingly upset brothers.

“Are you sure?” Sam questioned, still hoping it was some kind of weird joke.

“Positive. Although at first, I thought it might’ve been me going crazy, since I was sure she died long ago,” he began to explain, upon noticing the confused look in their eyes. “She never fancied neither mine, nor mother’s hobbies. Believed worshipping Satan was deplorable. Got to say, I have come to agree with her now.”

The red-eyed demon watched both brothers react, each in their own particular way. On one side, Dean was furious, still pacing around the room with a tenseness visible in his shoulders. On the other, Sam sat back on his chair, arms crossed in front in his chest, while an amused expression overpowered his features.

“I feel tempted to ask what has you so worked up. Assuming this isn’t the first time a creature has deceived you,” Crowley said, after a moment of silence.

“We were hoping it would be someone else,” Sam didn’t hesitate to answer, much to Dean’s dislike.

“Who? If I may ask.”

“You already did,” the blonde Winchester noted, still angry at the whole situation.  

Sam shoot a knowingly look at his brother, silently asking him to relax for a moment. “Gabriel,” he answered.

Crowley’s eyebrows shot up, slightly surprised by their answer. “Gabriel? As in the archangel?” Both brothers simply nodded, remaining in a disappointed silence. “I’m afraid I never had the pleasure of meeting him.”

“And you won’t; he’s dead,” Dean spat, visibly upset. “But that’s a whole other story, so… just tell us where she is, so we can get this over with and get the hell out of here.”

The King of Hell held a hand up in the air,halting the eldest Winchester in his tracks"She’s a white witch, nature-oriented hippie. Why do you think I believed her dead? Mother hasn’t known of her whereabouts either for centuries. I assure you she’s not harmful.“

"She killed six men,” the brunette stated, still not moving from his place.

“We all have our reasons,” Crowley answered smoothly, but the look on both brothers’ faces made him realize they weren’t willing to let things go. “Look boys, I might’ve not been the best brother all those years ago, but I won’t let you kill her now.”

“So, what? Guilt finally took caught up with you, and now you’re being the great, big brother?” Green eyes stared at him menacingly.

“We could use her help, you dimwits!” Crowley argued. “If she has lived this long, surely there’s quite a few tricks up her sleeve that I may not know of, which could help us against Lucifer.”

The brothers stared at each other for a moment, debating whether it would be a good idea to have to deal with yet another witch.  

“Just talk to her, see if she can help,” He continued, once they didn’t say a thing. “If she can’t, she’s all yours to smite as you wish,” he added, uninterested about his sister’s fate. “Think about it.”

With a snap of fingers, he was gone, unwilling to leave a trace of her for them to follow. Silence reigned in the cheap motel room as the Winchesters prepared themselves to hunt the newly discovered witch.

The moment they walked to the door, a knock on the other side startled them. Leaving them wondering who’d found them now Dean stayed in place, gun in hand, while his brother approached  the door.

Sam stood rooted in place, in shock, upon finding a woman outside their room. She had long, curly, red hair, big hazel eyes, and a devious smile. It didn’t take him long to put two and two together, considering the obvious physical traits she shared with both Rowena, and Crowley.  

“Evening, Samuel! It’s nice to finally meet you, my name is Beatrice,” she said in a cheerful tone. “I presume you know about me already, considering Fergus just left.”

The oldest Winchester quickly joined his brother, gun pointed directly at her face. “Inside,” he barked.

“Thank you.” The woman entered the room, looking around curiously before turning to them. “You must be Dean. Now, I don’t believe it’s very polite to at point people with that thing,” she scolded the blonde. “The gun too, dear.” She added after a quick glance below his waist, and a grin was painted across her face, almost causing Dean to blush.  

“Enough with your games,” he almost stuttered. “We know you’re the one behind the supposed suicides, so you’re gonna stop, and cancel whatever else you have planned. Or, we put a bullet between your eyes.”

She remained unfazed, still smiling while listening to Dean’s threat.

“How did you know Crowley just left?” Sam asked, earning a glare from his brother.  

Something sparked in her eyes, and her smile became even wider, if possible. “I put a little hex bag over there,” she explained, her long-fingered hand pointing towards the A/C. “Sorry for listening to your conversations, but I’m sure you understand a girl has to watch her back.”

“Ok, that’s it,” Dean snapped, pointing up the gun at her again.

“You really don’t want to kill me, boys.” She raised a hand as she spoke, causing the brothers to flinch in response.  

They both relaxed when nothing happened, wondering what, exactly, was her plan. “Oh, yeah?” Dean said, once he felt secure again.

“Yes,” the redhead simply responded.

“And why is that?”

“I’m older than you, that would be awfully rude,” Beatrice responded, taking a seat at the edge of one of the beds. Both brothers stared at her unamused, visibly annoyed by her response. “Alright, alright. Listen,” she said in a low voice, removing imaginary dirt from under her nails before continuing. “I can help you find the archangel you’re looking for.”


	2. Chapter 2

“He’s dead.” Dean growled once again, still not able to believe how his brother had convinced him to hear her out.

What began as a simple witch hunt, ended up with them breaking, late at night, into a gymnasium with the witch they were supposed to be killing. She’d claimed that in order to do what she needed, a large, closed space was required.

“ _I know_ , darling. I never said he wasn’t.” The woman replied, digging through the large bag she’d brought with her. “What I  _did_  say, was that I could find him.”

_“How?”_

So much questioning was driving her insane, but she still found their distrust understandable. Which was why she simply took a deep breath  before answering:

“I just  _know_. I’ve spent a fair amount of time looking for connections with heaven,“ she began to explain, handing a jar to Sam, who seemed to be the most welcoming at the moment. “I am sure both of you understand that having one of the most powerful witches as a mother was scary for me, considering how many times she tried to get rid of both Fergus and I.”

With a flick of her wrist, the lighting on the empty gymnasium they’d broken into, dimmed. The brothers remained in silence once she began to tell her story.

“I figured, if hell was rotting her on the inside, heaven would do the opposite for me.” She took a couple steps around the place, sprinkling the floor with an unknown powder. “It was hard, since no one really listens up there.”

Dean threw a knowing glance at his brother, momentarily understanding her situation.

“But I managed, one way or another. Even tried to pull Fergus with me. I guess it would be redundant to say it didn’t work,” she stated the obvious, smiling mockingly at them.

It was slightly amusing to Sam watching her be so relaxed already, considering a mere hour ago Dean was pointing at her with his gun. His brother, however, still seemed tense about having to deal with her.

"How does your sad little story relate to this?” Dean muttered, far too annoyed to be anything less than a douchebag.

Her hazel eyes bored into him, and then traveled to meet Sam’s. “Anyhow,” she decided to ignore the oldest Winchester. “I think we’re all set. Samuel, the jar please.”

“What is it?” He asked, looking at it curiously.

“And what’s that crap you put on the floor?” His brother inquired as well.

“Just a little something, something I brewed. It’s supposed to be Gabriel’s oil; 4 parts weeping willow leaves, 2 parts jasmine, 1 part bay leaf, 1 part sandalwood and 1 part aloe.” She spoke fast and clear, staring pridefully at it. “Consecrated on a new moon night. As for the powder: animal remains.”

The blonde grimaced, now looking at the floor with disgust. “Are you sure this is gonna work?”  

“Let’s just say I got the spell from someone reliable…” The redhead stood at the edge of a sigil she’d make them paint on the floor, and straightened her back, mentally preparing herself for what was coming. “Now, after my signal, picture Gabriel in your mind as hard as you can. Also, please remain silent, I have to be calm while attempting this.”

Sam pulled Dean back to stand farther away from her, earning a pissed off glare in the process. Beatrice took a couple of deep breathes in, closing her eyes. Her shoulders fell, as she muttered something under her breath.

She opened the jar, dipped a finger in it, and placed a spot of the oil in the middle of her forehead. Her breathing was heavy and slow as she kept muttering. The chant seemed rhythmic, like a poem, or a song. Sam wondered if the tongue she was praying in was enochian.

The mood in the gymnasium began to change, the air felt heavy and wild around them, despite it being a closed building. The dimmed lights shone up a bright white, as did the sigil at her feet.  It was almost blinding, making her skin glow.

Thunder and rain began to fall, violently tapping against the windows of the building. It wasn’t long until they broke open, causing both Sam and Dean to flinch and crouch to cover themselves from the shards of glass flying towards them.

Regardless of the chaos going around, Beatrice remained calm and collected. She then opened her eyes and searched for the brothers, unable to pronounce a single word. They immediately took it as her signal.

Dean rolled his eyes, while Sam closed his and began to think of Gabriel. The redhead kept on staring at the oldest Winchester, who evidently didn’t even want to try.

“Dean!” She yelled, her voice almost muted by the strong wind hitting their ears.

His brother turned to him, noticing he wasn’t doing as she asked. _“Dean!”_  He sounded almost desperate, but the strong rain harshly hit his face, making him feel like it was cutting his skin. “Dean, come on!”

With a groan, he complied, and did his best to focus on his memories of Gabriel. But it didn’t last long, for a roaring thunder broke through the ceiling and fell right in the middle of her sigil. The force of it being such, it sent Beatrice and the brothers flying across the building.

Everything stopped: the bright lights, the thunderous rain, the furious wind, and all that was left behind, was nothing but a destroyed gymnasium. The glass from the windows and light bulbs, shattered due to the sudden energy boost, all around. Dead leaves and dirt in every corner, and a sigil burned onto the wooden floor.

The first one to react over his pain, was Sam. He blinked repeatedly as he tried to adjust to the darkness of the place. “Dean are you okay?” He shook his brother delicately, hoping he’d be conscious.

A small groan was the response he received, good enough to make him sigh in relief. He then remembered they weren’t alone, and searched for the redhead who’d most likely ended up farther away from them.

“Beatrice!” He yelled, upon spotting her immobile figure down on the floor. Sam ran as quick as the pain allowed, and kneeled next to the witch. A thin line of blood fell down from the side of her head, where she had slammed against the wall. “Dean, she hurt herself bad!” He panicked, once he wasn’t able to feel a pulse.

His brother rushed to his side, more worried about his own brother’s distress, than the woman lying unconscious on his arms. Dean quickly pulled a bandana out of his pocket, applying pressure to stop her bleeding. He placed a finger under her nose, sighing heavily when feeling her warmth.

“She’s breathing,” he told Sam, trying to ease him. “We need to get out of here, c’mon.”

Before Sam could carry her better, she began to squirm, and her eyes fluttered open. “Beatrice.” The brunette remained still, waiting for her to come back to her senses.

“Are you guys okay?” Was the first thing she asked, and her hazel eyes searched for theirs, as she did her best to sit up.

Dean frowned, slightly taken aback by her preoccupation. “What the hell did you do?” He barked.

“I’m marvelous, thank you.” The redhead answered, smiling defiantly at him. “As for the spell, I’d never tried it before so I-”

The words dried on her throat, for when her hazel eyes adjusted to the light, it allowed her to define a figure standing in the shadows. Her petrified stance caused the Winchesters to look towards where her gaze was locked, only to find themselves as shocked as she was. If not more.

“Well, paint me green and call me a pickle.” The stranger said, snapping his fingers and lighting the building back up. “It freakin’ worked.”


	3. Chapter 3

Electricity traveled from his core to the tip of his fingers, making him feel energized, alive. He clenched his fists repeatedly, almost as if it would help him wake up in case it was a dream. But it wasn’t.

He’d been gone for long,  _so long_ , and he could feel it in his vessel. There was a stiffness that he had not experienced since the time the poor sap agreed to take him in. A headache was bothering him, probably from being woken after almost 8 years, to be immediately pulled back to earth.

Gabriel felt confused and disoriented, as he found himself standing over a burned sigil, in the middle of what it seemed to be a now destroyed high school gymnasium. It didn’t took him long to realize someone had used a spell he thought lost and forgotten, to bring him back.

He looked around, finding three figures sitting on the floor across from him. A Cheshire smile began to pull his lips once he recognized two of them. “Well, paint me green and call me a pickle,” he snapped the lighting of the room back on. “It freakin’ worked.”

His amber eyes barely focused on the brothers, when they locked with the hazel eyes of the woman being held by Sam. He’d never seen her before, nor had he idea who she was, but the aura that surrounded her allowed him to realize she’d been the one to try the spell.

“ _Gabriel?_ ” Dean said dumbfoundedly, blinking repeatedly as if he was staring at a ghost.

Actually, he would be less shocked if it had been a ghost instead.

Before the archangel could say anything else, he heard the voices and steps of the guards rushing towards where they were. He figured it wouldn’t be ideal for them to be found. “Let’s take this somewhere else,” he suggested, raising both hands to snap the four of them out.

They were back at the motel room the guys had rented. Gabriel took the liberty of moving the impala to the parking lot as well, knowing better than to leave evidence behind.

Both brothers kept on staring at him in silence, while a triumphant smile seemed to appear on the woman’s face.

“I gotta say, boys.” The archangel spoke up once realizing no one else planned to, “I knew you missed me, but not so much to go as far as diggin’ up  _dangerous_  ancient magic.”

“Dangerous?” Dean echoed, knitting his brows as he processed his words.

“Yup, had it been either of you stooges inside the sigil chanting the spell, that thunder would’ve pulverized you. Not only that, but it’s extremely difficult as well. Making the oil itself requires perfect conditions, and a vast knowledge of the Theban Script.” Gabriel noted, staring at the redhead who had miraculously survived the spell.

“Ah, so it is you.” She smiled almost wickedly, leaving Sam’s arms and approaching the archangel, walking around him while shamelessly checking him out.

“ _Of course_  I’m me. Wasn’t it your intention to bring _me_ back?” He questioned, following her with curious golden eyes. “And, who are you?”

“She’s Beatrice,” Sam chimed in, finally finding his voice through the shock. “Crowley’s sister.”

“Crowley,  _King of Crossroads_ Crowley?” Gabriel asked, the discomfort of having her stare at him so deeply making him squirm ever so slightly.

“More like  _King of Hell_ ,” she corrected. “Or so he claims to be.” Beatrice winked at him, making him smirk with her remark.  

“Man, how much have I missed?” He snorted, “Is Downtown Abbey finished? Wait, don’t tell me, I haven’t watched it.”

He noticed the way she faltered, and placed a hand to the side of her head, where she seemed to be bleeding. Without saying a word, he brushed his barely close to her temple, stopping the pain and healing her wound.

“Thanks, darling.” She brushed her hair with one hand, finally moving away from him.

“How long have I been gone?” Gabriel asked, pacing around the room to try and make the stiffness of his limbs go away.

“Six… or seven years. Give or take,” Sam answered, hesitating while doing so.

The archangel let out a whistle, brows raising as he wondered what’d been of earth those past few years. “Judging by the way things look, I’m gonna go ahead and assume you put Luci back in his cage”

An uncomfortable silence reigned the atmosphere. Sam and Dean shared a knowingly glance, which didn’t go unnoticed by Gabriel.

“You did,  _right?_ ” He pressed.

“He was but… not anymore.” Sam muttered, “it’s a long story,”

“It better freakin’ be!” Gabriel was visibly upset, already stressed by whatever mess was happening on earth.

He couldn’t deny it; he was still upset about being murdered by his own brother. Not even a hundred years of sleep would keep his mind out of that. But he couldn’t let it get to him, at least not enough for others to realize. So, instead of asking right away, he simply clenched his jaw and decided to leave it for a better moment.

For now, he just wanted to relish being alive.

“We need your help,” Dean said.

“And here I thought you’d only brought me back because of my good looks,” he spat in a sarcastic tone. “Forgive me if I don’t seem too excited about the idea of coming  _mano a mano_  with my dickbag of brother  _again_.”

“Oh, honey you don’t have to.” Beatrice interrupted their conversation, while gathering her things back into her bag. “I  _did_  tried the spell just for the sake of trying. You’re free to do as you please,” she assured. “Not that you need me to tell you, of course. No one gets to make us do anything we don’t wish to do.”

Her words struck him like lighting, the memories of his last night on earth flashing through his brain.

“Right. See you around, fellas.” With a snap of fingers, he was gone.

“You had to talk.” The oldest Winchester snapped at the witch, who simply stared at him with a raised brow.

“Excuse me?” Her question was flat, as if she really hadn’t heard him at all.

“Dean, wait.” his brother pulled him back and to the side to talk with him more privately, as the redhead kept on doing her thing, completely unbothered.

Dean rolled his eyes so hard it almost hurt, taking a sharp breath before turning to him. “Wait  _what_ , Sam?”

“We need to ask for her help.”

“Are you insane? She’s a witch!” He retorted, wondering if his brother had lost his mind thanks to the hit they’d taken back at the gymnasium.

“You heard Gabriel, that thunder should’ve killed her, but it didn’t. Plus, he seemed impressed by her abilities. Maybe she really could help,” Sam pressed.

The blonde Winchester took both hands up to his face, rubbing it in an attempt to avoid the headache coming his way. “ _No._ ”

“Dean.”

“Well, if there’s nothing else you need me for, I should get going.” She said, stopping their quarrell, and already making her way to the door. “It was a pleasure meeting you, gentlemen. I promise not to make too much trouble.” Beatrice winked at them.

“Beatrice, wait please. We could really use you,” the brunette stopped her, delicately grabbing her wrist.

“My, my… Listen, dear while I found both of you _very_ attractive, I prefer this type of proposal over a couple of drinks.”

Sam let out a breathy, yet shy laugh, slightly intimidated by her flirty nature. “No, we-”

“I know,” she interrupted him, turning to them as she spoke. “I heard your conversation with Fergus, in case you forgotten.” She paused for a moment, her hazel eyes traveling to the brothers and every corner of the room. “I’ll help you… If, and only _if_ , we forget about the people who died over here.”

“Died? No, no, no.  _You_  killed them.” Dean pointed out.

“Four of them raped their stepdaughters, and the other two had a bloody good lawyer to trick a jury into thinking they were innocent of similar crimes.” Beatrice finally explained, her features turning somber and bitter. “Wouldn’t have you done the same?”

Dean’s jaw fell open, and his green eyes widened in surprise. Instead of saying anything else, he simply looked down, thinking deeply about the motive behind her curses.

“We’ll talk tomorrow, boys. A girl needs her beauty sleep. Good night.” Beatrice blew a kiss towards them, and exited the room without another word.

* * *

She sat on the loveseat in the middle of her suite, silently contemplating everything that had happened on her eventful evening. Beatrice felt both drained and overwhelmed, thanks to all the energy she’d channeled on the spell.

A wave of pride washed over her after a moment, and she smiled at her success.

“Well, someone looks pleased.” A low voice snapped her out of her thoughts, and made her look over her shoulder. “Did you get some lovin’?”

“Don’t be an idiot.” She laughed, signaling the seat next to hers, as an invitation to join. “The spell you gave me worked.”

“Have I ever given you anything that didn’t?” He replied, sitting down immediately after.

“No, although he did mentioned something about it being dangerously mortal. A little heads up would’ve been nice, you moron.” Beatrice noted, throwing an accusing glare at him.

“So I heard… I also happened to notice the doe eyes you threw at him.”

The redhead let out a sharp, noisy huff, laughing at his statement. “Please, don’t make me laugh.”

“Listen sweetheart,” he raised a finger at her, a mocking smile pulling his lips. “Laugh all you want. But you can’t deny _that_ thing started ticking since the moment you saw him.” The finger in front of her face was now pointing towards the room’s safe.

She clenched her jaw, trying her best not to fall in his game.

“Don’t call it a thing,” she mumbled in a low voice.

The man stood from his seat, straightening his coat with a sharp tug. “As you wish. Now, if you’ll excuse me. I just wanted to check on you in case you needed healing, but it seems Gabriel took care of it.”

He walked towards the minibar, checking around for the best whiskey the hotel offered. After serving himself a glass of it, he raised a hand to snap himself out of there.

“Balthazar,” she called him, her back still turned to him.

The angel sighed, “Yes, love?”

Once again she looked at him over her shoulder, softly smiling. “Do try to stay out of trouble, or I won’t bring your feathered ass back once more.”

“Of course you would, what would you do without me?” He laughed, vanishing out of there, and leaving her with her thoughts.


	4. Chapter 4

Dark clouds covered the sky, rain threatening to fall down at any moment. Dean grunted as he saw his,  _recently cleaned_ , car from the window of the diner. He could hear a distant rumble, and the sound of Sam’s rapid typing beside him.

He wondered if the spell from the night before had caused the bad weather creeping upon them. Even when it had brought Gabriel back, he’d left almost immediately, causing the idea of losing 10 bucks for a car wash to bother him.

“I still think this is a bad idea,” he suddenly muttered to his brother, not moving his gaze away from the car.

“I know, and I get it. But-” Sam moved his laptop to the side so Dean could take a look at it- “she wasn’t lying, all the guys she cursed were sexual predators.”

“Still murder, Sam,” he insisted.

“C’mon, like we are any better.” The brunette murmured, closing his laptop and moving his eyes to the window as well. “You think she’ll come?”

Dean shrugged in response, taking a deep breath in as he did. They had done business with Rowena before, but doing it with Beatrice, felt different.

Maybe, that’s what scared him.

He was more used to people like her mother and Crowley, to make truces, and then stab them in the back right after. At least he knew to expect that by now. But it didn’t seem to be the case with her, she seemed too authentic to be trusted. As weird as it sounded.

The bell from the diner door tingling brought him back from his trance. His green eyes locked with her hazel ones, as she walked directly to them.

“Morning, lads.” She chirped, standing in front of their booth.

“You’re late,” Dean noted, while staring at her annoyingly.

“Dean,” Sam sighed, noticing how she stood expectantly. “Join us?” He said in a hesitant tone.

The brunette was right in assuming she was waiting for them to invite her, which made him smirk in amusement. Yet he could feel his brother rolling his eyes. Sam decided to ignore it, given Dean was always hard to come around when it came to working with someone new.

“So,” he continued to speak, once the waitress came around and took their orders. “Have you considered helping?”

“I have,” Beatrice answered, taking a sip from the cup of tea in her hands, while her hazel eyes locked with Sam’s. “But, I think I would like to know what happened, why Lucifer is out  _again_.”

Dean’s brows shot up in response, trying to process what she was asking. “What for? Didn’t you hear? It was all over in the supernatural news channel,” he spat.

“Indeed, it was. Still, I didn’t truly hear much about it. I had my own things going on, you know?” She smiled, knowing by now how much better it was to simply ignore the oldest Winchester’s attitude. “Besides, it wasn’t really my business.”

“And it is now?” He retorted, a mocking smirk on his lips.

“If you want my help, I think it is.” The redhead simply answered, her shiny, hazel eyes now moving towards the window.

The brothers shared a knowing look with one another, and sat in silence as Sam tried his best to convince Dean to loosen up a bit. He finally sighed defeatedly, clenching his jaw before agreeing. “So what, you want the whole deal, or just some cliff notes?”

“The whole deal, if you don’t mind.” Gabriel chimed in, appearing out of nowhere, and seated next to the witch.

Beatrice jumped slightly in surprise, staring at him with wide eyes. “Glad you joined us, handsome,” she said with a soft smile, after regaining some composure.

“Gabriel, you’re helping?” Sam immediately inquired.

“I wanna know what happened.  _Everything_. Since I was gone,” he requested, leaning back against the booth. “ _Then_ , I’ll see if I help.”

A cup of tea and two sugary milkshakes later, Beatrice and Gabriel stared at the Winchesters with neutral looks on their faces, as the men kept  explaining what had went down since the archangel died. Minus a few details.

Both of them remained quiet, except from a few sarcastic comments the archangel would make from time to time. Until they began to talk about the time they met God, who’d been hiding while pretending to be nothing but an alcoholic prophet.

Something shifted in the air around them, the lights of the diner flickered for a moment, and the mood turned heavy and tense. Beatrice’s hazel eyes focused on Gabriel’s hands.  She noticed how he clenched his fists and how they lightly trembled.

His face, however, remained expressionless. Yet a small smirk painted over his lips; it was weird and almost crooked, as if he was laughing at  _something_. The redhead placed her pale, delicate hand on his shoulder, the contact allowing Gabriel to ground himself. She patted him lightly, her gaze focused on the brothers.  

“If  _He_ was here, why not bring back his aliferous children?” Her tone was calm but firm, nothing like what was going to come out of his mouth.

“He-he was weak, I suppose. Amara almost killed him.” Sam tried to reason, not really meaning to defend Chuck.

“And before that? After the apocalypse, what was his excuse then?” She pressed, her voice a tad harsher than before.

Gabriel stared at her with wide, golden eyes, and a confused furrow on his forehead. For a moment, he felt her as upset as he was, and silently wondered why. But he couldn’t exactly see inside her mind.   There seemed to be a barrier protecting her, so strong he couldn’t even hear the beat of her heart.

He moved his attention back to the Winchesters, who struggled to come up with something to say.

“Well-” he slammed his hand flat on the table, demanding everyone’s attention- “seems like Lucifer lost  _that_  bet.” He almost chuckled at their puzzled expressions, “Dad might be powerful and all, but let’s just say auntie Amara never held back her punches. I’m not surprised she kicked his ass to the bench.”

The three humans at the table remained quiet, each trying their best not to react at his comment. “Let me guess, at the end they threw some dirt at each other, made up, and retired to Boca?” He broke the silence, knowing no one else was going to.

“Basically,” Dean affirmed.

The archangel scoffed, his gaze drifting to the side as he avoided rolling his eyes too hard. “Some things never change,” he muttered in a low voice.

“I’ll help you.” Beatrice suddenly said, calmer than before. “But, I want to tag along with you, starting now.”

“Yeah, as if,” the blonde immediately retorted, turning hostile once more.

“You wanna stay with us?” His brother asked, his eyebrows drawing together in both confusion and surprise.

“Mhmm, how else do you expect me to be close enough in case Lucifer pops up?” She smirked, relishing on their expressions. “I’m weak, and I need a safe place to stay. I know for a fact you live in one.”

They were taken aback by her honesty, silently wondering why would she confide in them the fact that she was weak.

“Uh-huh,  _not_  happening.” Dean insisted, ignoring the questions that wanted to come out of his mouth.

“Dean.”

“ _Sam_.”

“Tell you what…” Gabriel demanded their attention once more, raising a hand to point at the redhead sitting beside him. “You let  _her_ in, and  _I_ will help you.” He stated.

The oldest Winchester took a sharp breath in, visible annoyed by his current situation. Sam decided to do the talking, considering how on edge his brother seemed to be already.

“Why do  _you_  care?” He asked the archangel.

“She brought me back, simple as that.” Gabriel didn’t hesitate to respond. “I don’t like to be in debt. Plus, it’s always fun to see little Dean-o in here all hot and bothered. Brings back good memories.”

The archangel could feel her piercing eyes staring. He turned to her and winked quickly enough for only her to see. Silence fell upon the table, as they expected their answer.

“Listen, Dean. I’m well aware you dislike me, which I fail to understand why.” Her tone was serious and firm, “there’s a common enemy out there, and even more around, considering what you two do for a living.” She paused, waiting for Dean to at least see past his rage and pay some attention to her words. “I’m not asking you to trust me, I’m asking you to let me  _prove_  to you that I’m trustworthy.”

Dean’s head jerked back at her words, his furrowed brow softened ever so slightly as his shoulders dropped, and he leaned back against his seat. It wasn’t often that someone asked for a chance to prove themselves to them.

He clenched his jaw as he gave himself a moment to think. After a silent minute, he took a deep breath in. “No funny business,” one of his fingers pointed at her, “no strikes. You mess up  _once_ , you’re out. You try something behind our backs, a bullet goes through your head.”

His tone was low and menacing, still the smile on her face remained. “Do tell, are you always this charming?” She cooed.

Gabriel huffed, after being quiet for most their exchange. “Yeah, I don’t want none of that either,” Dean quickly added.

Beatrice held her hands up in a mock surrender, a playful grin wide across her lips. The oldest Winchester glared at her, and stood up to pay his check and leave.

“I think he likes you,” Gabriel joked, smirking widely at Dean’s frustration.

“He better, we’re going to be roomies after all.” Elizabeth smiled mischievously, resting her head on her hand as she watched the blonde man strut towards the cashier.

“I know it’s going to be hard, but thanks for be willing to help,” Sam said in a low voice, seemingly interrupting the witch’s train of thought.

“Save it for when we lock the devil again,” she immediately replied, her smile faltering and features hardening as she spoke.

The youngest Winchester nodded in silence, feeling suddenly anxious at Beatrice’s change of demeanor. Both him and Gabriel watched her closely, there was something equally eerie and somber about her mood. Despite having know her for less than a day, he felt neither fit her personality. Sam sighed heavily, and glanced at the entrance, where his brother was already waiting for them.

“We should go,” he suggested, already standing up and walking towards Dean.

“Sure, dear.” Beatrice turned to Gabriel, who was blocking her path out of the booth. “Will you be joining us?”

The archangel hadn’t stopped looking at her, he raised his brows at her inquiry, looking almost taken aback by the question. “No,” he finally replied, somewhat relaxing as he stood up to let her through. “No, I have things to do.”

One of her brows quirked at his words, squinting while she stared at him. “So, should we call 1-800-Archangel if we need you, then?”

Gabriel let out a chuckle, tilting his head back as he did so. “I’ll keep in contact as needed, don’t need to ask for numbers and emails,” he clarified, a grin remaining on his lips while he spoke. “See you later, Redzee.”

He was gone in an instant, only leaving behind the sound of a rustle of feathers. Beatrice stood in her spot after he left, unable to remove him from her thoughts. The sound of the impala’s honk however, helped her snap out of it, even for just a moment.

“You’re getting distracted,” a voice coming out of nowhere commented.

She knew the voice far too well, and didn’t bothered turning to know Balthazar was leaning against the bar of the diner. “You know, I have started to regret bringing you back. I miss the silence, and the  _me_  time.”

“It appears to me that you won’t have much of that, even if you rid of me. At least not as long as you live with those two,” the angel quipped back, slowly walking behind her, trying to avoid being seen by the Winchesters. “How will I get to check on you, if you’re in that fortress?” He asked, the tone in his voice turning serious.

Her hand was already on the door by then, but she stopped to look at him over her shoulder. The redhead could see a glint of distress in her friend’s eyes. “We’ll think of something, we always do,” she assured with a soft smile. “We won’t be leaving just yet, meet me at the hotel in 15 minutes.”


	5. Chapter 5

“A chatter mirror? That’s your brilliant idea for us to keep in contact while you’re there?” Disbelief was bleeding into his tone, while he watched the red haired witch gathering her things from her room.

Beatrice rolled her hazel eyes in exasperation, after having Balthazar shut down all the ideas she had come up with in the 20 minutes Dean gave her to pack. He was getting on her nerves, but she understood. They had been apart for a long time, and being so again with Lucifer on the loose, was just as nerve wracking for her as it was for him.

The blonde angel leaned back on his seat in the middle of the room, downing his fifth shot of whiskey. His blue eyes followed her around, piercing through her brain like daggers, hoping to get a peek inside her head.

“Can you please stop it? There’s nothing in there for you,” she spat, putting all her spell books into one of the many suitcases over her bed.

“I need to see if you have any ideas you aren’t telling me,” he defended himself, standing up and taking long strides towards her. “Beatrice.” Her name rolled out of his tongue like a plea. Balthazar held her by the arm, in order to make the witch look at him.

She stared into his eyes in silence, noticing the glint of fear he tried to tuck away. The red haired woman threw the rest of her books over the bed, and placed her soft hand over her cheek.

“It’s going to be fine,” she whispered, trying to soothe away his fear. “No one knows you’re alive, not even Lucifer himself. I made sure of that.” The witch gave a soft tug to the hex bag hanging around his neck.

“Darling, it’s not me I’m worried about. The Winchesters can’t even save their own asses, and you’re going to be traveling around with them hunting the devil.” He held her hands in his, his tone more serious than ever, “if it comes down to save one of them, or you…. I think we both know who they’re going to throw overboard, and I can’t go through that. Not again.”

A somber silence fell between them, Balthazar was right, and she couldn’t pretend otherwise. Before a word could leave her mouth, her phone rang, it was a text from Dean, urging her to hurry up.

“We haven’t talked about Gabriel,” he pointed out.

She stepped away from the angel, flicking her wrist to send all the rest of her belongings into their designated suitcases. He simply stared at her, glued to the same spot, waiting for her to say something.

“Because there’s nothing to talk about.”

He cocked his head to the side, narrowing his eyes at her. “Love, you may have turned 350 years of age, but you aren’t getting any better at lying.”

Beatrice avoided his gaze, looking less fierce than she did a moment ago. “Are you going to stand there babbling all day long, or are you going to give me a hand with this?” She asked softly, standing in front of the safe in the room.

A heavy, dramatic sigh left his chest, but he approached her anyway. “Are you sure about this?”

“It’s going to be safer at the bunker than in some hotel room. Just the two of us know about this, they don’t have the slightest idea,” she said confidently, not exactly answering his question.

He pursed his lips in disapproval, and rolled the left sleeve of his coat as he extended his arm towards the safe. The witch mimicked his actions with her right arm, she glanced towards Balthazar, and nodded as a signal to continue.

“Libero sigillum,” they chanted in unison.

Bright, silver runes and symbols shined in their skin, matching the ones who appeared over the safe in the wall. The seals turned and shone, until there was a fairly loud unlocking sound.

The blonde man snapped the safe door open, allowing the witch to pull out the wooden box inside of it. The expression on her face was one he still couldn’t grow accustomed to, it made him clench his jaw ever so slightly.

“As long as this is safe, so will I,” Beatrice said, more to herself than anyone else. “I’ll be fine.”

* * *

“You sure took your sweet little time,” Dean spat annoyingly, leaned against the impala’s car outside the hotel.

“Ah, so you think I’m sweet?” She smiled, completely ignoring his hostile attitude.

Her carelessness earned a smirk from Sam, who seemed to enjoy how easily she managed to get under his brother’s skin. “Got everything you need?” He asked, trying to ease some of the tension of the moment.

“Yes, handsome, I’m all set. Shall we?” Beatrice walked towards the car, and made her way inside it, as if she owned it. Dean shared a glance with his brother, who was still visibly upset.

“Sammy over here fought a good battle to convince me not to blindfold you for the entirety of our trip,” the oldest Winchester began to explain as soon as the car was on. “Don’t make me regret letting him win.” He stared at her from the rearview mirror, his brows furrowed and gaze threatening.

“Blindfold, huh? A man after my own heart,” The redhead teased him innocently, smirking at Dean.

A glare was his only response, she pursed her lips in order to avoid a cackle to leave her mouth, which didn’t go unnoticed by either of the brothers.

“C’mon dude, how do you expect this to work if you’re closing yourself already?” Sam questioned, trying to put his peacemaking skills to work. “We already agreed to her living with us, she’s gonna have to be part of our conversations sooner or later.”

“I’d suggest it be sooner, considering what we have in our plate,” she added, leaning close to rest her arms on their seats. “You said you were giving me a chance, Dean.”

The oldest Winchester clenched his jaw, and decided to focus on the road ahead. He turned the radio on and up, as a signal for his brother and the redhead to remain quiet. Sam simply turned towards her to give her an apologetic look, to which she simply nodded and leaned back against her seat.

A few hours went by in complete silence, Dean’s mixtape playing over and over. It was close to sundown when he decided to find a gas stop, and have something to eat.

“I’m getting a burrito,” he announced while getting out of the car. “Sam anything green… and Beatrice,” he paused, waiting for her to ask for something.

She felt slightly surprised, raising her brows as she quickly tried to think. “Oh, I’ll take whatever you bring Sam, dear.” Beatrice finally said, as she fished for her wallet inside her purse, but stopped at Dean’s gesture. He held a hand over her window, as a signal that he would take care of it, and left.   

“Huh,” Sam huffed, making her turn to look at him. She noticed he seemed as surprised as her, “Dean has his ways of warming up to people. That one happened to be one of them,” he explained, upon seeing her inquiring gaze.

“I see,” was all she said, focusing her hands on her lap, where she fidgeting fingers rested.

“Don’t take it personal, we’re just going through some stuff,” the brunette asked sweetly, seating in a way he could face her as they spoke.

“Don’t worry, love. I’ve dealt with worse, I mean you’ve met my mother and brother.”

His hazel eyes fell down to his own lap as he smiled, the bittersweet tone in her voice made him think about John, for some reason. “Our mother… she was brought back recently, but left to be on her own a couple weeks ago. Dean has been having trouble dealing with it,” the words came out of his mouth without too much thought.

He didn’t know why he was suddenly talking about it, perhaps it was the fact he hadn’t done it at all. Sam raised his head to find Beatrice staring at him, there wasn’t a hint of emotion washing her features, she was just listening to him.

“And, I suppose so am I, which is… strange. If I’m really honest with you, I don’t feel like I know her at all,” Sam continued, not breaking eye contact with her. “I want to get to know her, but now I don’t know if it will ever happen.”

“Maybe she feels the same,” the witch said after a moment of silence, making Sam frown ever so slightly. “Think about it, our feathered friend Gabriel left as soon as he was brought back. He was dead for seven years, Sam, he needs time to focus.”

The youngest Winchester’s mouth fell, as realization began to nest inside him. “Now, think about your mother, she was gone a little over 30 years, and so much has changed in this world. Including his two babies. You two are men now, two men she never got to meet.” He nodded softly at her words, taking each one in little by little.

“I see what you mean,” he managed to say between nods.

“Plus, if it is of any consolation, my mother once tried to sell me from some lambs blood. So, at least yours doesn’t considers you currency.” Beatrice smiled, her previously serious demeanor fading away with a playful smile.

They laughed loudly for a moment, just as Dean came back from the store. He handed the food to Sam, and entered the car with a raised brow. “Any of you care for sharing the joke with the rest of the class?” He inquired, trying his best to keep the stern look on his face.

“Just talking a wee bit about my childhood, any interest?” She replied, knowing he wouldn’t appreciate his brother talking about their family problems.

Dean’s lips parted to reply, but was quickly interrupted by his cellphone. He pulled it from his jacket, and responded as soon as he saw Castiel’s name on the screen. “Hey, Cas.” Sam and Beatrice stared at Dean expectantly.

“Hello, Dean. We have a news on Lucifer.”


	6. Chapter 6

They were only halfway on their way to L.A., nothing but a burrito, salads, some donuts and coffee in their stomachs since they hit the road in the morning.

Castiel’s call was the only incentive needed to keep them driving the rest of the night. They hadn’t stopped much, except for gas. It was that time when everything felt eerie, and almost surreal. Because of his intent to arrive as soon as possible, driving non-stop had turned Dean tired, tense, unfocused.

“Just let me drive,  _ once _ ,” Sam requested again, also struggling to stay awake. 

“No, we need to arrive _tonight,_ ” he replied, focusing his tired sight on the pavement ahead. “You’re too tired to drive.”

The witch had to keep herself from laughing.  It was the pot calling the kettle black. “Boys, may I suggest we find us a spot to stop and rest?” She suggested, leaning in just enough to be heard without raising her voice too much. 

“What part of  _ tonight  _ did you not understand?” Dean quipped, tiredness making him more irritable than usual.  

She let her head fall back as she rolled her eyes, and sighed heavily. While it was understandable why they wanted to get there quickly, surviving a car crash due to sleep deprivation wasn’t on her bucket list. Still, she remained quiet, knowing better than to argue with him.

A couple of hours down the road, Dean wasn't driving as fast as before; it was dangerous how tired he was. It was then that Beatrice got an idea.

“Dean, could you make a stop in the next gas station? I need to use the ladies room.” A groan was the only thing he said, leaving her wondering if he would stop.

Her answer came 15 minutes later, when Dean pulled off on the first Gas-n-Sip he could find. Both Winchesters exited the car, with her following right behind.

“I’m getting some water, want anything?” Sam asked his brother, who was trying to use his last bit of consciousness to fill up the car with gas. 

Dean turned around and glared at him, the bags and dark circles under his eyes making them shine a lighter green than usual. 

“Coffee, right,” he muttered as he left Dean to deal with the gas.

The youngest Winchester didn’t realize the moment Beatrice got inside the store, and came out of the restroom. He found her at the coffee machine, serving a tall cup of dark roasted coffee.

“I’ll pay for your stuff and Dean’s, love,” she said with a smile pushing him to pick whatever he was going to drink.

“You sure? Dean also wants some --”

“Yes, yes. Just take it to the counter.” The witch insisted, taking the cup of coffee with her.

The blonde hunter was already waiting for them to go, and the frown on his face could’ve been intimidating, if he hadn’t looked so exhausted. 

“Here’s your coffee.” Beatrice smiled, handing him the warm cup. He didn’t say a word, simply nodding as a thanks and swallowing almost half the cup in a single shot.

“Alright, let’s go.”

Before his hand could touch the door handle, Dean fell straight to the floor, and flat on his face. The half-full cup rolled through the parking lot, and Sam ran to his brother, shocked about his fall. 

“Dean?” He slightly shook his body, afraid of hurting him in any way. Sam stared at him for a moment, and visibly relaxed when Dean snored as loudly as ever. “Did you just put something on my brother’s coffee to knock him out?” He inquired, once meeting with Beatrice’s hazel eyes.

The redhead stood straighter, and felt herself shrink under Sam’s intense stare. “I --” she hesitated to respond, suddenly remembering how they’d warned about her spells. 

“Why didn’t  _I_ think of that?” Sam asked, more to himself than to her, grabbing Dean to lay him on the backseat of the car.

Beatrice let out a sigh of relief, and made her way to the passenger's seat. 

“Let’s find us place to stay, no way I’m gonna keep driving.” The brunette said, starting the impala’s engine.

* * *

 

Less than an hour later, they checked in at the nearest motel Sam could find, and he simply shot a good night as he carried Dean to their room.

While they slept, Beatrice walked around her own room, wearing nothing else but a black nightgown. She was comfortable, the room had nice conditioning, the bed was soft. Still, she couldn’t find her rest.

There were far too many things on her mind. 

In all honesty, there had been quite a lot since the last couple of centuries. Her mother and brother were on top of the list, one of which she was to reunite with after almost 300 years of nothing. 

Now, she  _also_ had to worry about having to deal with Satan, keeping Balthazar safe, keeping her secrets from the Winchesters… and a golden eyed archangel.

A rhythmic knock on the door startled her. Her hazel eyes glanced towards the digital clock in the room, making her instantly question who could it be at that hour. Her first thought went to Balthazar, but he wasn’t the kind to knock.

Holding a dagger behind her back, she peered through the peephole, prepared to attack if she had to.

“Is just me,” Gabriel’s voice came from the other side.

Something tugged inside her chest, and for a moment she considered not opening. It was childish, really. But it wasn’t often that someone managed to take her off guard, like it’d been happening lately.

She took a deep breath in, smiled, and slowly opened the door to meet him. “Good evening, love,” she purred. He asked to be let in with a gesture, to which she immediately conceded. 

“Sorry to pass by so late, but I needed to speak with you without Dumb and Dumber being around,” he explained, avoiding looking at her while carelessly examining the room. “Lucky for me, you don’t seem to sleep much.” Gabriel paused, and finally glanced at her. 

His gaze was all over her body, and smirk began to paint over his face as he stared.

“Lucky for  _anyone,_ I’d say.” The way his brows wiggled only added to the flirty undertones of his statement, almost causing Beatrice to blush.

Instead of showing the effect his commentary had on her, she simply shrugged, and walked over to sit on the small table next to the room’s window.

“So, to what do I owe the pleasure of having an archangel wanting to talk to me in private?” She asked, crossing her pale legs in a way the gown slipped above her knees.

If he was going to play  _that_ game, so would she. 

His smirk momentarily faded as he focused on her legs, and he went to sit on the chair in front of the table. Gabriel took a second to watch the witch sitting higher than him. The pale moonlight made her skin glow, and her red curls looked darker than they actually were. 

He didn’t know, but it did the same for him. His golden eyes shone as if they had light of their own, his honey-comb hair looked almost blonde, and melted into a dark brown where the light could no longer reach.

“The spell you used to bring me back,” he finally began to speak, his natural carelessness fighting its way back to his voice. “I’m not gonna ask where you got it from, because I know you won’t tell me.” 

Beatrice nodded, letting him know his thoughts were correct. 

“But --” he held a finger up in the air, and allowed himself to smile once more -- “I will ask: why did you do it?” 

“Was it wrong of me to do it?” She asked back, keeping her voice low and calm.

The archangel glared at her, not in a highly intimidating way, but enough to let her know he hadn't appreciated his question being dodged.

“Never have heard of someone complaining about being brought back to life.” Was his reply. “Except Jesus, dude was kind of a diva,” he joked, leaning back against the chair.

She let out a small laugh, but remained quiet, waiting for him to actually answer her question.

“It wasn’t,” Gabriel finally admitted after a short silence. “Sleeping was nice and all, but I still have some unfinished business around here.”

“You’re welcome, then,” the redhead chirped, leaning slightly closer to him. Her hands rested on the table, one of them a mere inch away from Gabriel’s . “Like I said, I _did_ bring you back just for the sake of trying.” 

He laughed, and began drumming his fingers in a fidgety manner. But his laughter died quickly, and his gaze turned serious once more. “Was I the only one?” 

She switched the leg that she’d crossed, and tilted her head to the side. “Does it matter?”

Gabriel’s focus dropped, following her movements below the waist for less than a second. It was so quick no normal human being would’ve been able to notice. But she had.

Once his eyes found hers again, he mimicked her, canting his head as his lips curled almost bitterly. “Are you gonna answer all of my questions with another question?” He demanded.

“Would that be a problem?” 

He finally let out a loud cackle, letting his fist down on the table and making a loud sound. “If this was Jeopardy, you’d be a top contender.”

Silence made its way between them, and the air around felt warm and thick; time meant nothing, as she realized she’d never met someone that had existed since before the universe was created. Beatrice felt that tug on her chest again, making her swallow harshly, as if her throat was closing up. Still, she refused to show how everything was affecting her.

She took another deep breath, and her nostrils filled with his scent. It was sweet and floral. Like freshly picked lilies dipped in honey.

“You  _are_ the only one,” Beatrice finally admitted, intoxicated by him.

Gabriel took a sharp breath as well, and nodded ever so slightly at her answer. “Thank you,” he said, not breaking eye contact at all. 

“No problem, handsome. I did it more for me than for you. Don’t think yourself special.” He smirked, finally moving his golden eyes from her to the moon shining above them. 

She did the same as him, and felt herself relaxing at the sight of the moon. For a short moment, nothing was really inside her head, except for the continuous sound of his drumming fingers.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” His sudden question made her turn back to him, but he was still looking out the window. “Catch the devil, I mean.”

“Yes,” she replied without hesitation. The look of disbelief on his face was like no other, almost making her want to laugh. His lips parted to speak, but she didn’t allow him to even start his question: “I have my reasons.”

“I take it your hair ain’t the only fiery thing about you,” he noted, shrugging nonchalantly. “One thing you should know about my brother, Red: he despises witches.”

Her body tensed at his words. To say that she was terrified about meeting Lucifer, was an understatement. But if the Winchesters had managed to lock him once by themselves, surely with her help it would be easier. 

“If you managed to bring me back without dying, I’m pretty sure you’ll give him a run for his money,” he reassured.

A tight smile was the only gesture she could manage to give him, now far too stressed to say anything at all. 

“Don’t worry, sugar. Worse comes to worse, I’ll take care of you.” Gabriel saw her eyes widen at his promise, and her mouth open as she tried to say something. “What? You really thought letting the Douchesters take you in was my way to thank you for bringing me back?”

“Do tell, in how many ways can you show me you’re thankful?” The words left her mouth without much thought. 

The drumming of his fingers stopped, she watched his shoulders drop, and how his throat bobbed as he seemed to swallow. She glanced towards where their hands were resting, and Gabriel spread his, the tip of his fingers almost brushing hers. 

They didn’t touch. Yet she could feel his energy pricking her skin, like a thousand tiny spiders crawling up from her hand to the back of her neck. 

Without a word, he stood from the seat with a sudden movement, almost knocking back the chair, and leaned dangerously close to her. Neither of them dare to move.

Being so close, Beatrice could see every single color of his iris. From the whiskey around the pupil, to the ring of pure amber that melted into a warm green here and there. She licked her lips, causing those beautiful orbs to momentarily focus on her mouth. 

She felt his warm breath hitting her face, certain he could feel hers as well. They were so close, yet somehow he managed to feel so far apart. 

“Guess we’ll see along the way,” Gabriel suddenly stated. 

The way he said it was harsh, almost unnecessarily tough. Perhaps it was just how she felt coming down from the strange high she’d just experienced. 

The redhead didn’t process the moment he stepped away from her. At least not until he was already halfway out the door and bid her goodbye. “Get some rest, princess.”

Beatrice jumped at the sound of the door closing, and blinked repeatedly as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. Now that he was gone, she noticed they’d been in the dark the entire time, and how cold the room had turned. 

She really needed to sleep now.


	7. Chapter 7

“Fergus?”

The king of hell grunted, and rolled his eyes as he did his best to find a happy place to put his thoughts away. He turned on his heels, finding a redhead walking towards him, each Winchester by her side. Her curls bounced as she fastened her pace towards him, she had a wide smile on her face and an overall cheerful aura around her.

“Who is she?” Castiel asked, frowning deeply once realizing the stranger looked eerily familiar. 

It wasn’t until she removed the huge sunglasses from her face that the angel was able to notice how much alike to both Crowley and Rowena she was. His mouth dropped momentarily, but Crowley spoke before the question could leave his lips.

“My sister,” he admitted bitterly.

“Brother,” she chirped, finally arriving to where he stood and wasting no time wrapping her arms around him. 

“ _Stop_ ,” the demon grunted, an overly dramatic look of disgust deforming his face. 

After a moment of her awkwardly hugging him, she took a step back, grabbing his hands and not letting go. “Let me look at you, it has been so long,” she argued, deeply studying him. “Nothing like centuries apart to miss your family.”

Crowley squinted, taking a moment to think about her words. His sister was beaming as she looked at him, but was unable to figure out what she could be thinking. “What is it?” He finally asked, figuring there was  _something_  she wanted to ask.

“Nothing, nothing,” she rushed to reply, the look on her face saying otherwise. “Just, you know… is it true you sold your soul for a couple extra inches?” 

Laughter from the Winchesters followed behind her inquiry, and the demon wished there was a way to kill her for good, but he knew better than to try something under the light of day. 

“Nothing like a couple of seconds together to miss the centuries apart,” he muttered between gritting teeth. 

“Oh, come now, Fergus. I’m just toying with you, I truly did miss you, you know?” She assured, only earning an annoyed glare from him. 

Sam cleared his throat loudly, causing her to let go of Crowley and turn to stare at him with curious eyes.

“Sorry to interrupt your family reunion, but we do have Satan to care of,” Dean pointed out annoyingly, once her attention was on his brother. 

“We haven’t been able to find him,” Castiel spoke up in an ashamed tone, and Beatrice quickly turned to stare at him.

“So you must be Castiel.” She moved her entire focus from Crowley to the angel in question, and took her time to watch him closely. 

“Uh --” He couldn’t come up with something to say, curious as to why she seemed to have an interest in him. The angel straightened his posture even further, if possible, and pressed his lips into a thin line as he allowed her to analyze him. 

“You look… changed,” the witch muttered, earning more confused looks from everybody around them. 

“The coat is new,” Castiel affirmed, visibly nervous under her intense stare, his arms pressed awkwardly to his sides. 

“Changed? Had you met before?” She froze at Dean’s inquiry, turning to see him with her mouth slightly opened, thinking about her choice of words. 

“I meant… for an angel, he just looks  _ different _ .” The smile that she gifted them was as natural and carefree as always, clearly trying her best to avoid an interrogation. 

Green stared into amber, and he raised a single brow. “Because you’ve met so many?” He wouldn’t let it die, probably still annoyed by her trick with the coffees the night before.

She rolled her eyes, sighing deeply as she stepped away from Castiel and closer to her brother. Her crimson lips were tight, holding back a lot of things about her life that Dean had no right to know about. The mood around turned slightly tense, as the witch and hunter stared each other down. 

“So, are we doin’ this or what?” A sixth voice asked from the the other side of the lobby, and everybody turned to find Gabriel seated across one of the couches. 

Sam took advantage of everybody now focusing on the archangel, and stepped in to avoid his brother and Beatrice fighting again. “You find anything?” He asked to Castiel and Crowley.

“Yes,” the demon quickly replied. “Vince Vincente  _is_ riding with the Devil.”

The look on the Winchesters faces was bitter, they sighed and clenched their jaws as they tried to prepare themselves for whatever that was coming. 

“Okay, so what now?” Castiel questioned, moving his gaze away from his brother to the others. It was still difficult for him to get used to Gabriel being back. 

“I suggest we go check out his room.” The king of hell raised a card in the air, giving it a little wave. “Vince is scheduled to be on his studio all day, so we’re covered.” 

“How’d you get that card?” Dean questioned.

“This is L.A. I know a lot of people,” Crowley gloated, smirking as he made a beeline towards the elevator.

“Well!” Beatrice clapped her hands, causing her brother to pause. “If you find anything, let me know, I’ll be on my suite.” She waved a card of her own, and shrugged as she walked to the other elevator.

“Wait, you said you’d help us.” The youngest Winchester was the one to jump this time around, frowning as he tried to remain calm. 

“You got a suite?” Her brother asked right after. 

“You’re not the only one who _knows people,_ brother dear.” She smirked, immediately turning to clear things out with Sam. “While you go and check whatever you have to check,  _I’ll_ attempt to track him. Sound like a plan?” 

It was evident she hadn’t intend to ask if they agreed. Beatrice was letting them know what she was going to do. 

“Tracking spell won’t work, sweetheart. My brother will taste it the moment you gather the ingredients,” Gabriel noted, walking over to stand closer to the group. 

“Are you offering to help, or do you just want to be able to say  _‘I told you so’_ later on?” She quipped back, a subtle sharpness on her tone. 

Gabriel smirked, raising a brow at her. “If you want me around that bad, you just have to say it,” the archangel teased. 

Dean snapped his fingers between them before she could reply, demanding attention. “Could you maybe leave-” he signaled back and forth at the archangel and the witch- “whatever  _this_ is, to  _after_ we jam your brother back in the cage?”

The whiskey eyed archangel took a step back, holding his hands up in the air in a mock surrender. While Beatrice simply smirked while noticing he wasn’t denying there being  _something_ else in the undertones of his words. 

“You do you whatever you gotta do, we’ll check Vince Vincente’s suite. I’ll shoot you a text to regroup here late on,” the oldest Winchester quickly said, finally walking over to the elevator.

“Yessir,” she conceded.

* * *

 

“So, you lied.” The words hadn’t come out as either a question, nor an accusation, it was more as if he was just noticing something out. 

The witch paced around the room, all dressed up in her sleeping gown and a satin robe. Gabriel sat at the table in the opposite side of the room, feet propped up in the table, his eyes glued to her. 

“Not exactly,” she said after a moment, getting up the king sized bed in the room. “I _was_ going to try a tracking spell, but you said it won’t work. _Then_ , I was going to take a nap.”

“Oh,  _c’mon_ .” Gabriel whined, standing from his seat. “If you aren’t gonna do anything, then let’s go find something to do.” 

She studied him for a moment, once she was comfortably settled in the bed. He seemed... fidgety, his hands always finding a way to be moving or touching something. 

“Something like what?” 

“You know, something  _fun_ .” He replied, slightly desperate, like a child who ate too much cake at a party. 

Beatrice rolled her eyes, repressing a smirk at his whiny attitude. “I need to rest, given  _someone_ came knocking at my door at 4 a.m.”

“You can’t blame that on me, you weren’t asleep.” Gabriel pointed a finger at her, and took three long steps towards the bed. 

One of her brows quirked at his sudden movement, tension growing heavy in the room. She straightened her back and raised her chin while simply watching him standing there. The witch squirmed in her bed, sensing the mood from last night seep between them once more. 

After a moment, Gabriel stepped back, and strolled around the room while seemingly analyzing every single peck of dust in the room. 

“Can I ask you something?”

Her soft voice made him turn on his heels almost instantly. His mouth formed a pout, and his eyes unamused, as if he was really doing something important. “You can.”

“It’s about…  _The Empty_ .” She saw him stiffen at her words, the expression on his face going from bored to tense, and she almost regretted bringing it up. “Tell me to buzz off if you don’t want to-”

“What do you wanna know?” he asked flatly.

Beatrice contemplated about what to ask, and brought her knees up to hug them in an attempt to brush off some of the vulnerability she suddenly experienced. “I don’t know. I couldn’t find much about it to read, but I knew you were there when looking for resurrection spells.”

“Looking for resurrection spells, huh? I take it you really like playing with fire,” Gabriel teased, allowing a half smile to pull his lips.

“You have no idea, golden boy.”

He chuckled, and walked over to the bed, but not as close as the time before, like there was an invisible line between them. “It was… odd. If I’m honest I can’t even begin to describe it, since I was asleep.” His eyes were lost somewhere in the room, as if he was trying to put himself back there. “But when I woke up, that’s what I can’t describe.” 

She could tell he was rambling, venting even, so she kept her inquiries and thoughts to herself, just letting him go on. Her hazel eyes were focused on him as she listened attentively. Gabriel’s eyes moved to his hands, he clenched and relaxed his fists a couple of times. 

“I was looking at myself, staring back at me. But it wasn’t…  _me_ .”

His words sent a shiver down her spine, not fully understanding what he meant. Balthazar had mentioned something about seeing himself too, but he was pulled back to earth right after that. The witch knew there was more in Gabriel’s version. 

After a second of silence, though, he looked back at her again, a harsher expression over his features. “I should let you sleep.” The sudden change in his tone and subject almost gave her whiplash, but she did not try to push it any further. “The four Stooges are calling for me, something came up.”

“Lucifer? Should I go?” She hurried to stand up from the bed, looking for her clothes to quickly dress up, but he held a hand up in the air to make her stop.

“No, I’ll tell them you’re working on the spell,” he finally smiled, walking away through the door instead of simply snapping himself away. “Be prepared.”

Beatrice laid in bed, both hands over her chest as she tried to figure things out, to figure _him_ out. There was something about Gabriel she did not yet understood, and made her wonder if she was the only one who felt that way. The Winchesters seemed to get him, so why couldn’t she?

Despite the bundle of questions swimming inside her head, she found her rest. Even though it was only a couple of hours, they were more than enough. When she finally woke up, she found Balthazar sitting at the edge of her bed. 

“Can I help you?” She inquired, struggling to raise from the comfortable mattress.

“Why are you digging where you shouldn’t?” He asked, arms crossed over his chest as he simply stared at her. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She stood from the bed, walking away from the discussion Balthazar was obviously trying to initiate. Before she could arrive to the bathroom where she planned to locked herself in, he was already standing in front of her. 

“Yes, you do, love.” There was a smile on his face, but it wasn’t sincere. “The thing with Gabriel, needs to stop. Whatever it is.”

“There’s nothing!” The redhead snapped, pushing him away to walk inside. “Even if it was, it’s none of your business.”

“Yes, it is!” His tone raised to match hers, and he kept walking over in front of her, to have her look at him straight in the eye. “I’m taking care of you,” he insisted, trying not to yell. “And it would be much more easier if you weren’t such a bloody imbecile.”

“No one’s asking you to do so,” she retorted nonchalantly, removing her gown and causing him to roll his eyes and look away in order to avoid see her naked.

“Really? Because last time I recall, it was  _you_  who was begging for  _my_ help while standing in the middle of a pyre-” 

Whatever else he was going to say was cut short by the way she turned him and slapped him straight in the face, a fierce look in her eyes. The slap hurt her more than it did him, and they both knew, but it was shockingly enough to have him stare at her like she’d stabbed him with his own angel blade. 

She pointed a finger in front of him, and she was visibly shaking with anger. “Don’t you ever, bring that up again.” Every word was spat bitterly, a thick and uncomfortable silence settling in between right after.

“You know where the door is.” 

Beatrice turned her back to him, walking away to take a shower. A flutter of wings was heard, and she knew he was gone. She was upset about everything, but overall because it’d been the first time she and Balthazar fought since he was back. 

The warm water that fell over her skin relaxed her muscles as much as her stressed allowed, there was still a stiffness over them and a nagging sensation in the middle of her chest. She closed her eyes and attempted to empty her mind, trying to find some peace within herself for at least a second. 

Her attempt at meditation was quickly interrupted, however, by the sound of her ringing cellphone. Beatrice hurried out from the shower, and picked up the annoying device.

“What?!” 

“We-we need you to come down, we hit a wall,” Sam’s shy voice replied from the other side

His tone caused her to relax, and almost slap herself at her loss of composure. “Be right there, dear.”

* * *

 

They stood across the street from the place Ladyheart was going to perform, watching excited fans already making their way in. Castiel offered to be the first one in to distract Lucifer.

“He’s my responsibility,” he argued, when nobody else agreed with him trying to take him down by himself.

“No, he’s not. He’s all of our responsibility,” the youngest Winchester retorted.

“Excuse,  _you_ ? I wasn’t around when you brought him back out.” Gabriel jumped in, pointing at everyone but Beatrice.

“Shut up, Gabriel,” Dean growled.

“Well, the only way you’ll clear that crowd without drawing fire is if he’s otherwise engaged.” The blue-eyed angel kept debating, fully convinced his way was the right one. 

“Engaged in what, Cas? Killing you?” The blonde Winchester inquired, glaring at Castiel as if he had personally offended him. “Let Beatrice try, she got us the location by flirting with some dudes, sure she can figure something out.”

He earned a glare from the witch, who was interrupted by Sam before she could say anything at all. “Cas, you’ll last… three minutes tops.” Sam hadn’t intend to kept her silent, but it clearly wasn’t the moment for more arguments.

“Then I’ll buy you three minutes.” Dean sighed in exasperation, knowing nothing would convince Castiel from going on his suicide mission. 

“Make it four,” Crowley stepped in, looking less convinced than the angel. “What? I help.”

“Four is enough. I’ll help, too.” Beatrice finally spoke, turning all the attention on her while placing a hand on her brother’s shoulder. 

Everybody went silent, considering their options and realizing they really didn’t had that many. “Fine,” Dean said, hoping to formulate a plan in less than five minutes.

* * *

 

Nothing was going right, but they’d at least emptied the concert hall. Lucifer had thrown both Castiel and Crowley away, and it was evident none of them could even approach him. He was furious, and anger only seemed to make him stronger.

He was boiling up, bitter thanks to Chuck lying to him again, and everyone could see. Lucifer walked over towards Castiel, and held him by the neck while muttering something in enochian. It was then that Beatrice stepped in.

“ _Restringere_ _.”  _ She held a hand towards him, successfully binding him in place. 

“Who the fuck are you?” Lucifer growled, trying, and failing, to approach her. “You’re going to regret this,” he threatened, making her shiver ever so slightly. 

“I wouldn’t worry,” Gabriel said behind her, walking into the light for his brother to see him. The look of in Lucifer’s face almost made the youngest archangel laugh bitterly, but he simmered it down to a chuckle. “See, my brother here could kill you, but it’s not permanent. From what I’ve heard he can’t make  **_anyone_ ** last dead. His threats are a joke.”

Lucifer’s eyes glowed red, and what once was a look of confusion and regret, quickly turned into the face of anger the Winchesters had been dealing with the past couple of minutes. He smiled wickedly, managing to raise a leg and stump it back down, causing a small earthquake to shake the floor beneath them.

“Behind me, gingersnap.” Gabriel ordered when he saw her tremble and break the binding spell she had on Lucifer, shielding Beatrice with his body.

Lucifer cracked his neck, approaching them with slow, yet long and strong, steps. “Really, Gabriel?  **_Another_ ** girl?” He chastised, the dark circles under his eyes becoming more prominent. “I don’t even want to touch you by now.”

“Don’t worry, you won’t have to.” The youngest archangel smirked, one of his hands hovering over Beatrice to ensure she was still behind him.

The comfort that spread through every single one of her senses was overwhelming, but she welcomed it. Both archangels energies were electrifying, but the one that had her entire focus was Gabriel’s. Despite him being younger than Lucifer, he was as fierce and powerful, and she could feel it in the air around them.

Beatrice couldn’t help smiling to herself, content that Lucifer would have to go through Gabriel to get to her. It didn’t mean that she would let him handle it entirely, but it felt good to not be standing up alone against the devil.

She allowed herself to blink, to then find the youngest archangel was no longer there between them.

Or  _anywhere_ near them.

Uncertainty and confusion lingered in the air where he once stood. The very next second he was gone, Lucifer’s red bright eyes focused on her, and she was suddenly unable to breathe. 

His gaze was alarming and penetrating. She recalled how it felt when his brother’s golden eyes were on her, the way his stare warmed her. Lucifer’s, however, was cold and terrifying. A wicked smile painted on his lips as he kept approaching her, clenching and spreading his fingers. 

“Well… talk about being heartless” He mocked her, stifling a laughter. 

The witch looked around, trying to figure out where the hell Gabriel was. Nowhere even _near_ Los Angeles, seemed to be the right answer.

It wasn’t until his fist hit her face that she realized he’d reached her. Her skin stinged and burned, despite his hand feeling like it was made of ice. The impact sent her flying towards the stage’s amplifiers. 

Before she could try to stand up, she felt a kick on her stomach, and then her ribs, which was immediately followed by another one on her face. The witch could hear the boys screaming, trying their best to reach her. Hell, even Crowley was attempting  _something_ to try to get to her. But not one of them could.

Blood soon blinded her, as it began to drip from somewhere in her face down to her eyes. The couple of ribs Lucifer’s beating broke, made it hard for her to breathe. A million thoughts ran through her head, and while she knew she wouldn’t die, she couldn’t help but wish she could.

The pain was too much, not the worse, but it had always a been a bitch to wait for consciousness to fade away. That if the beating didn’t woke her back up.

He was still kicking her, punching her. The Winchesters, the angel and her brother were still screaming. There was too much going on, and yet, the only pain she could focus on was the one inside her chest. Gabriel lied, he said he’d protect her, and he didn’t.

Why was it so easy for him to bail? She wondered. The whole deal seemed like a bad dream, but it wasn’t, the physical pain was making a hell of a job reminding her of it.

“I’m gonna skin you with my bare hands,” Lucifer threatened, and a panic washed over like a bucket of ice cold water. She could smell his rotten breath, the coldness of it hitting against her face, that’s the only way she could know how close he was, and knew to expect a punch straight to her face.

But it never came, and the screams from the boys suddenly stopped.

“I don’t think so, Luci.” A masculine voice claimed, his tone was rough and bitter. 

He was pissed, she knew it. And, judging by the way everybody seemed to be holding their breaths, she can tell  **_they_ ** could see it, too. 

Lucifer was speechless, then again she would be too if  _another_ _one_ of her  **_“_ ** _dead_ **_”_ ** brothers suddenly appeared right in front of her. Just in time to keep him from attempting to kill a witch, nonetheless. Balthazar took advantage of his state of shock to send him flying, and quickly kneeled down to gather Beatrice in his arms.

“You’re fine, I’m here,” he whispered in her ear, while holding his angel blade towards Lucifer. 

But the devil never approached them, for his vessel began to rot right in the middle of the stage. “This isn’t over,” he warned, opening his mouth to leave Vince Vicente’s body and leaving it to rot.

* * *

 

“I didn’t call for you,” Beatrice pouted, her bruised and split up lip slowly healing under his touch. 

“I know,” the angel replied, brushing strands of hair away from her face. “That doesn’t mean I was going to leave you there, you’re my best friend.”

Ambulance and police sirens could be hear three streets down, reporters rushing to let the world know about Ladyheart’s first and last revival concert. But they ignored the noise around, and the looks of Crowley and Castiel standing a couple of feet away from them.

“I’m sorry I slapped you.”

“Eh, never been the one to feel ashamed about my fetishes, dove.” Balthazar shrugged, earning another soft slap on his chest. “I’m sorry about what I said.”

Before she could reply, the Winchesters arrived. “How you feelin’?” Dean asked, standing by the impala. There was concern in his eyes, as he stared at the witch and Crowley, who were the ones to receive more damage. His glance traveling towards Balthazar every now and then.

“I’m not dead,” Castiel said matter-of-factly, his eyes also focusing on Balthazar every chance he got.

“Peachy,” Beatrice replied, resting her head on Balthazar’s chest as he held her against him in a protective hug. 

“Well, I gotta hand it to you. You said you were gonna draw Lucifer's fire, and you drew some serious fire.”

“Oh, it was a grand success,” Crowley said sarcastically, blood still dripping from his messed up eye.

The redhead almost smiled at his tone, but was too tired to even try, despite Balthazar having healed her wounds already. “At least we all made it out of there.” 

“Not all of us,” Sam argued, visibly sulking. “Vince Vincente is dead, he meant something to a lot of people. And Lucifer just took all that and just twisted all that up and snuffed it out.” When no one said a word, he continued: “Lucifer was bad enough when he had a plan, a motive. Now he's just having fun. I mean, how many people died tonight? Them, this, it's all on us. We let him out. We're not winning. We're just losing slow. And you heard what he said.”

The grim tone of his voice left everyone speechless, not even Dean could come up with something to say. 

“And now we’re one down,” the King of Hell muttered, and all the eyes turned to Beatrice, as she buried herself against Balthazar, knowing well he was referring to Gabriel.

“Yeah, what the hell was that. You would think he’d at least-”

“It doesn’t matter,” Beatrice interrupted Dean’s rant before it could begin, her face and tone flat. “He did us all a favour by leaving instead of getting on our way. It was evident since the beginning he didn’t want to be part of this at all.”

Dean pursed his lips, and glanced at his brother who looked as uncomfortable as him. She didn’t care how she sounded or looked, the wound was too fresh and all she wanted was to go to bed. There was an exhaustion inside her that she’d never experienced until then. 

“Well, we should go. We have to find Lucifer again,” Sam said tiredly, yearning to be back home, at the bunker. 

“Since a spot in the merry band is now available, would you mind if I tagged along?” Balthazar spoke to them for the first time since he made his appearance, still holding the witch in his arms. It was obvious the question wasn’t meant as a request, but as a way to let them know he was  _going_ to be tagging along. 

“Woah, woah,” Dean quickly replied, holding a hand up in the air. “First… you both have got some explainin’ to do.”


End file.
